Climbing The Equator

by Neville Shulman

  Fernandina is the third largest island with the youngest geological volcano, only up to 300,000 years old and it is listed as very active. Many years ago inside the Volcán La Cumbre, there was a deep mineral lake where birds of different kinds came to feed on its insects, including black-necked stilts and white-cheeked pintails. Eventually there was one eruption too many and the lake vanished. Despite the disappearance of the lake, their instinctive knowledge somehow remaining, the female land iguanas still make their long journeys there from different parts of the island to lay their eggs in the warm volcanic ash. It’s almost unbelievable but they will travel for up to 15 days to arrive at the base of the volcano and then ‘mountain climb’ for 1,500 metres to reach the caldera walls. Then they must climb down a further 900 metres of sheer lava rock to locate the best places in the ash to lay their eggs. After ensuring their nests will survive they then leave them and make the long exhausting journey back to where they started out from.

  After three months the baby iguanas are born and they then must climb the caldera walls, go ‘over the top’ and make their way to the region their instincts tell them is to be their home. On the way they have to try and avoid being killed by falling rocks and stones and being snatched by the hawks. They never question why their mothers chose to birth them so far away in such a dangerous place, or why they have been left on their own, all they know is ‘that an iguana’s got to do what an iguana’s got to do’. Their will is just enormous and we can all learn from our prickly friends the meaning of true grit and determination.

  The iguana is a prehistoric looking creature and actually has three eyes, the two on either side of its head and the third eye (parietal) protected within a slight depression on top, used to gauge the brightness and strength of the sun. If it’s not strong enough the iguana goes into a slight depression. An iguana feels the changes in temperature more than most creatures and after a freezing night will need to attract the heat by basking in the sun for several hours. If the heat is insufficient it draws all the warmth it can from the hot lava rocks. Once it has reached the correct body temperature, as it’s difficult to find any shade it adopts its ‘gangster’ pose by raising itself on its feet, head held high, facing directly into the sun and allowing its body to receive any slight breeze. By adopting this position, the iguana also creates a shadow underneath itself to cool it down and the position can be held for hours at a stretch. The face of an iguana is a sight to behold. It’s craggy beyond belief, like someone with a hundred-a-day smoking habit, covered with scales that no amount of moisturiser will alleviate, and the crown of its head is covered by blunted spines which are used to head-butt rivals trying to interfere with their intended mating. Darwin somewhat aptly named the black ‘brooding’ marine iguanas the ‘imps of darkness’.

  Bartolomé. This tiny island only has one name and is special because it contains the Pinnacle Rock, the most photographed point of the Archipelago. I trek across the harsh landscape, where you can look for the Galapagos snake, but secretly hope that you don’t see it. Once at the base I have to make the Pinnacle climb which is certainly worth it as the view from the summit, at 114 metres, is absolutely spectacular. Opposite is the lunar landscape which is dotted with lava and tuff cones and channels, seemingly lifeless but impressive nevertheless. I can also see several Galapagos penguins gambolling carelessly in the shallows below the Pinnacle in the midst of brightly coloured fish of all shapes and sizes. They work as a team in catching fish and encircle a school constantly darting and retreating, so forcing them into an ever decreasing grouping until they become so tightly bunched they become an easy target to pick off by constant attack. The Galapagos penguin, the second smallest of the 17 worldwide species, is the only one actually to cross the Equator. I take a swim on the shore but it would take me a lifetime of practice to do a backflip like a penguin.

  There is a trek worth taking through the mangroves and across the dunes to another beach, although swimming there is not permitted. More fascinating marine life is readily available in abundance, including turtles and reef sharks, rays and ghost crabs. I can carefully observe the green marine turtles work their unhurried way along the shallows, stopping now and then to nibble on the luscious undergrowth of weeds and vegetation, swaying rhythmically with the gentle thrust of the currents. The female usually comes out of the ocean at night to lay her eggs. She takes a long exhausting crawl through the sand to be away from the incoming tides and digs a very large hole in which she buries her cache of eggs. She then covers them with several layers of sand, scraping the sand in all directions to hide her tracks and hopefully protect the eggs from the many predators anxious for a juicy snack. She can leave behind up to one hundred eggs and is desperate for them to survive, to make her painful work worthwhile. By sunrise her job is done and she then starts the long weary journey back to the sea. She can do this several times in a season but when she is finished will not return and Nature must take over.

  Española (Hood). It’s the most southerly and the oldest island, and its remoteness has led to many endemic species surviving. Española is another must for me as it’s also the prime home to the waved albatross, the only tropical-breeding albatross (the only other habitat now existing being on the Isla de la Plata off the Ecuadorian mainland). The albatross can have a wingspan of up to 2.5 metres and can spend up to seven years out at sea, and on its return will search for and find its mate for the rest of its life. Some sailors say they behave the same way but most of their wives would declare that to be an old sailor’s tale. The courtship rituals of the albatross are certainly a sight to behold and they are not shy to perform in public. They slowly dance around each other and appear almost to kiss as their bills encircle each other. They continue by pointing their bills skywards in unison, clapping, preening, making odd clunking moans and other noises as well as many other quirky movements, the meanings of which are really known only to themselves. I can’t resist a laughable imitation of the courtship dance when no one else is looking and think my skypointing at least is up to scratch but I don’t receive even a glance let alone a wave from any albatross, none of whom are fooled for a moment.

  The waved albatross can live for up to 40 years. They enter into a life-long relationship and will faithfully return from the ocean together every April, to create and raise just one chick during the year, leaving again in December to go travelling. Interestingly they do not travel together but separately, perhaps feeling it adds some spice of romance to their lives when they are reunited. They may all appear to look more or less the same to us but when the pair finally returns to the cliffs, almost within days if not hours of each other, they will immediately recognise each other and leap joyfully into a new dance of renewed courtship. This happens no matter how old they have now become and they will repeat their original courtship ritual, although not quite with the same fervour. Still, it’s the thought that counts.

  Floreana, (Santa Maria or Charles). In past less regulated times (it actually ended in 1790), the famed wooden postal barrel was sited here, to be used as a post drop for all those passing through the Archipelago. In recognition the bay was subsequently re-named after this curious but very beneficial service as the Post Office Bay. The very early nineteenth century saw the arrival of ‘the first settler’, in the Islands, staying on Charles Island as it was then known, Patrick Watkins. He had been put ashore after a heated dispute with the captain of the sailing ship in which he was travelling. Watkins became more and more eccentric and an even stranger sight as he roamed the islands. He refused to wash, never shaved and was always likely to abuse or behave violently to anyone he came across. To get away he finally commandeered a crew and stole a ship which he sailed to Guayaquil. He arrived there, however, with the crew no longer on board, and was promptly arrested and then sent to prison in Peru. The Peruvian prisons of that period were certainly no holiday camps and Watkins wasn’t heard of again. I wonder if the new head of conservation at the Darwin Research Centre, Graham Watkins, is a des
cendant but decide it is better not to enquire. My curiosity and humour have already got me into enough trouble.

  The islands were claimed in 1832 for the new Republic of Ecuador by General Jose Villamil who based himself in Floreana and designated the Spanish names for all the islands. The authorities on the mainland had thought it very convenient to use the islands as a place in which to park unwanted criminals and any others they wished to banish. Very soon Villamil tired of the life of the orchilla business (or lack of it) and also of having the low life of Ecuador thrust upon him to be his main companions, so in 1837 he retired from this colonial and barren existence. Not before, unfortunately, handing over to the infamous and brutal Colonel Jose Williams who had to keep a pack of wild, ferocious dogs to protect him. The nickname of the islands soon became known instead as, ‘Kingdom of the Dogs’ and it had obviously ‘gone to the dogs’. Williams in 1841 eventually had to flee for his life but inconveniently left the dogs behind. It’s not recorded what happened to the hated dogs but in those times no meat went to waste. Nothing much really happened for nearly 30 years until Jose de Valdizan tried to take charge but he didn’t fare any better and he didn’t leave in time and was assassinated in 1878.

  It then went relatively quiet again for many years until the sordid ‘Galapagos Affair’ occurred. Two Germans, Freidrich Ritter and Dore Strauch, arrived on Floreana in 1929. They were apparently lovers, although their behaviour to each other teetered on the edge of the bizarre and the downright wicked, with severe beatings, removing each other’s teeth, burnings with the lava, being just part of their very strange practices and ‘love habits’. The torments inflicted to each other were certainly at high earthquake levels on the Ritter Scale. They were then joined in 1932 by another odd German family, Heinz, Margaret and their son Harry Wittmer, shortly followed by the arrival on the island of Baroness Wagner de Bosquet and her two lovers, Rudolf Lorenz and Robert Phillipson. There were even wilder goings-on within the extreme relationships existing between them all, which ultimately culminated with the Baroness and Phillipson mysteriously disappearing together. They were presumed murdered, though nothing was proved and no bodies were ever found.

  San Cristóbal (Chatham). This is the most easterly island and has the only freshwater lake, El Junco, in the Archipelago. The lake is in the crater of a volcano and is called the Leon Dormido. There are herds of sea lions which are great fun and I am happy to sit relaxing on a rock while they entertain me. Each bull is powerful, territorial and will quickly fight its corner if a new challenger seems too inquisitive, or actually attempts to take over. The sea cows are content to suckle their babies, making available their tiny retractable nipples, whilst at the same time seeing that their other excitable youngsters, surfing in the shallows, don’t come to any harm. Wave surfing is as much an attraction to the young sea lion as it is to the surfers of Bondi Beach in Australia. They swim out looking for the ‘perfect wave’ and will ride it all the way to shore and then swim out and do it all over again. They are a delight to watch and their enjoyment is infectious.

  The birth of a sea lion baby occurs quickly, and immediately the mother will use her teeth to bite off the amniotic sack in which it has been born and start to nudge it alive. It responds within minutes, automatically searching for the food which the mother is happy to provide. The babies have no protective blubber when they are born, so cannot spend too much time in the sea. Surprisingly, if seals are separated from their young, they do not recognise them very easily (the same problem occurs with the polar bear mother and her cubs in the Arctic, they really do all look so much alike). The first few weeks are therefore spent ‘vocalising’ so that the mother and her pup will be able to call to each other when apart, hear the distinctive voices or sounds and hopefully find each other again. The young sea lions are extremely playful and curious and will chase anything that moves. This includes the iguanas, who are prepared to tolerate their interest as part of their growing up, being well aware that they are not rivals for food or love. The sea lions are very noisy creatures when awake and the air is filled with grunts, growls, barks and bleats from all sides, as they presumably pass coded messages across, indicating some decision or request. They are all very sociable and spend a great deal of time snuggling, sniffing and ‘helloing’ as they move laboriously around their beach territory. They all like to sleep a lot, and a little exercise seems to tire them out quickly, so everywhere on the sand there are groups of sea lions, sea cows and pups lying in comatose mode, looking as if nothing except an earthquake would ever wake them.

  San Salvador (Santiago or James). It’s the fourth largest island but has an unfortunate zoological history. Captain David Porter of the US Navy in 1812, at the time of his conflict with the English whalers, set free on the island four goats which continued to multiply so that in the late twentieth century their population had reached around 100,000. Porter wouldn’t have realised the harm four goats would cause but it’s a Zen observation to be remembered; always think through the consequences of your actions, no matter how small they may seem at the time. The goats were extremely destructive and killed off much of the island’s fauna. A necessary decision was finally made to eradicate them, but at the same time the huge pig population that had also been allowed to expand without control also had to be dealt with. Because of the large area through which the animals had been allowed to roam freely it took nearly 30 years and was only completed in 2001.

  There are very many places to visit but time is short so I have to limit my travel initially to Puerto Egas (Port Egas), Espunilla Beach and Bahia Sullivan (Sullivan Bay). Hector Egas was an old salt or even an odd sort and the port named after him still contains some of the salt buildings. He left in a hurry to the mainland to obtain some further funding but never returned. His staff waited for him for some years, possibly salting everything away for his return, but finally realised he wasn’t coming back and all they had was a huge amount of salt, with no orders. If they ever got hold of him I’m sure they would have delighted in rubbing salt into an old wound.

  Seymour (North Seymour). It is north of Baltra, from which it is only separated by a narrow channel. At certain times this channel can be walked carefully without getting one’s feet wet, or not enough to worry about, although the lava can be very slippery. It is a flat pack of an island, only about two square kilometres. The fascination for me is to see at first hand the colonies of both of the magnificent and great frigate birds as well as blue-footed boobies and swallow-tailed gulls. The male frigate bird walks around with a saggy bright red pouch sac most of the time, but in an inspiring moment can puff it out to an enormous size, in order to impress the female or intimidate his rivals. I am equally impressed. It beats a red sports car any day. The males are in constant rivalry and many may surround a solitary female, each putting on his best puffing act. Once the mating is complete, the nest chosen, it’s all over bar the shouting. The pouch stays deflated, the vibrant colour disappears and the job of the male is only to search for twigs for the nest. The two frigate kinds are generally similar (well they would be, wouldn’t they) but because of the inbuilt rivalry each may also want to be ‘the best’. The great species have a green sheen on their feathers and the female a white chest, whereas the magnificent have a purple sheen and the female a red eye-ring. A colour-blind frigate could get into some real serious trouble by making approaches to the wrong species. It could even turn into a real contest. The wingspan of the magnificent (up to 2.5 metres) is slightly larger than the great but who’s really counting. Perhaps size does matter, even with birds!

  Genovesa (Tower). It is the only one of the five northern islands open to visitors without special permissions and because of the huge numbers to be found there, it is also known as Bird Island. I am keen to visit, as here are numerous colonies of masked boobies, the largest in the world of red-footed boobies, great frigate birds, swallowtailed gulls, red-billed tropic birds and yellow-crowned herons. The air is rent with the whooping, screaming and cri
es as each tries to call to its own kind, with the males simultaneously warning off intruders and exhorting the females to stay available and within an area where they can be protected. When the shoals of schooling fish are spotted offshore, the boobies immediately take off in pursuit and dive down repeatedly until they are fully satisfied. The fish of course never learn and next day they will probably return and the feeding ritual begins all over again.

  The male booby, in order to attract the female, has to go first through an elaborate nest building courtship ritual with any twigs he can muster. The female will watch him silently and if unimpressed she will walk away. It can be a humiliating process particularly if he gets turned down by several females. It’s the same the whole world over and it’s why some men are often referred to as ‘great boobies’. Next there is an elaborate skypointing with his beak, earthpointing with his feet, to show off his brilliant ‘footwear’ colours and then some more posturing until he waits for the female to decide. If he is accepted as a mate he can expect to be rewarded with up to three eggs which will become little boobies all of his own. A booby chooses a new mate every year but he is not very faithful. He might even choose the same female a year or two later, though neither will remember, as it’s a rather spur of the moment decision on both their parts and it’s like hopping on a bus and off again, although here you don’t have to buy a ticket. The female booby has the instinctive motherly task of during the day shading the eggs from the burning heat of the sun, then spending the cold night with her feet wrapped around the eggs to keep them warm.